Chapter 7: Into the Wilds
They continued to ride deeper into the marshland, while increasing grey cloud gathered overhead. Warning signs were posted at frequent intervals, indicating that danger of various sorts lay ahead. They saw no other travellers, indeed, there was very little sign of life in general.
Finally, Alistair led them to a halt beside a broken stone pillar, standing like an ancient sentinel beside the road. It appeared to mark an old boundary of some sort. He gave the area behind a cursory glance, then gestured for the three initiates to gather around.
"So, the first part of the initiation ritual involves collecting a vial each of Darkspawn blood," he began, retrieving a handful of glass phylacteries from his saddlebag. He showed them to the initiates quickly, with the practised efficiency of one who had been through this process many times.
Jory swallowed and gave a faint nod, glancing quickly across at Daveth. The scrawny man was watching Alistair, tight-lipped, his fingers convulsively clutching the hilt of his blade. Flora was fiddling with her braid, uncertain whether to keep it down or pin it around her head. The minor noble shot her an incredulous look.
"So, we have to kill Darkspawn," the man from Denerim spoke up for the first time since they had left Ostagar, his voice thin and scathing. "Even though we've not been trained."
"Ordinary Darkspawn'll die with a blade stuck in them, like anything else," replied Alistair, dropping down from the saddle and slinging his shield over his back. "I'll assist where I can, and we do have a mage."
"Aye, a useless one who can't so much as light a candle!" sneered Daveth, who had overheard Flora's admission at the foot of the Tower of Ishal.
Flora was halfway through the precarious process of dismounting, and thus was unable to respond. Alistair sighed under his breath, checking the keenness of his blade before sheathing it.
"Let's all just try and get along," he muttered, tying the reins of his horse around the remains of the pillar. "Come on, tie up your steeds. If you survive, you won't want to be walking home."
They headed into the lowland, Alistair leading the way. The junior Warden walked with confidence, despite there being no discernible path through the swampy marshes. The water that pooled here was stagnant, the trees withered and malnourished. Every so often, a pale and sickly Elfroot plant clung to life on the riverbank.
"There are several Darkspawn camps beyond that rise ," Alistair murmured in an undertone, holding out his arm to prevent them from advancing. "Daveth, could you go and see how many there are? No sense in charging into a full nest."
The slender man shot Alistair a look brimming with resentment, but did as instructed. With a barely discernible tread, he crossed the shallow stream and began to skulk up the far bank. Jory and Flora watched him, the nobleman's face damp despite the cool autumnal air. The sweating man glanced sideways at Flora, who was carrying her staff on her shoulders, her expression impassive.
"Why are you not scared, girl?" he hissed finally, while Daveth melded seamlessly into the trees skirting the top of the ridge. Flora gave a little shrug, watching the slender man's progress.
"Don't know. I'm a Mage, we always have to fear demons. We see them in the Fade all the time."
"Darkspawn, demons, what's the difference?" asked Jory faintly, watching Daveth turn and head back down the sloping bank towards them.
"Demons kill you quickly," replied Alistair cheerfully, though his gaze was also trained on the scrawny man, fingers clenched around the hilt of his sword. "Darkspawn either kill you quickly or slowly, depending on circumstances."
Partway through speaking his tone hardened, rich hazel eyes blazing. Jory gaped, fumbling for his own dagger, although nothing yet seemed out of the ordinary.
"Prepare yourselves," hissed the junior Warden, unsheathing his sword and holding it aloft. Flora stared, feeling her heart beating wildly against her ribcage.
Daveth had reached the bottom of the slope and was just about to cross the stream when there came a most horrible sound from the top of the ridge. It was halfway between a snarl and a throaty gurgle; a noise nothing natural was capable of making. Daveth turned around, face beginning to twist in horror, as several Darkspawn appeared in a mass at the top of the ridge.
Silhouetted against the grey clouds, their twisted forms made a fearful sight. Over six feet tall, hunched and deformed beyond recognition from the living creatures they had once been. They were coated in rags and scraps of ragged flesh, armed with blackwood bows and jagged blades. Their movements were irregular and somehow disjointed, as if rotten muscle barely clung to eroded bone.
Flora felt herself quailing inwardly; she was not unused to demons but demons could at least be reasoned with, could be stalled and delayed and sometimes persuaded. These were feral creatures who wanted nothing more than to eat you alive, tear you limb from limb, then transform your bones into a monstrosity. Darkspawn were the monsters from the childrens' stories, the creatures who wanted to eat the world.
Be brave, Flora. Just be brave.
Beside her she heard Alistair give a roar of challenge, smacking the flat of his sword against his shield and striding into the shallow stream towards Daveth.
Flora followed Alistair, heart rising to her mouth and nausea twisting her stomach. As she ran forward, she pulled her staff from her shoulders, ignoring the instinct that told her to flee in the opposite direction, back towards the Circle Tower and safety.
"Your bow! Use your bow!" Alistair was yelling at a frozen Daveth. The scrawny man was paralysed as if cursed, his mouth open in a gape of terror. The first Darkspawn let out an unholy shriek, gore from its interrupted meal dripping in globs from its fangs, and began to lope unevenly down the slope on all fours. Alistair roared, raising his shield as he went to meet it. It leapt towards him and he deflected the lunging creature heavily, sending it crashing into the stream with a gurgling howl. The Warden raised his sword and in a single, practised gesture, sunk it deep into the creature's throat. Dark blood began to spill in gouts, mingling with the stagnant water of the stream.
One of the Darkspawn still at the top of the ridge hurled something dark and crackling down the slope, the projectile hissing as it left a smoking trail. It spiralled through the air, end over end, towards the leather-clad shoulders of Daveth.
Without sparing a moment for rational thought, Flora ran forward, water splashing over the top of her boots. As she ran, she felt the familiar energy begin to surge through her veins, heating her blood and brightening her vision. She brought up the staff, feeling the wood vibrate under her fingertips; the golden mesh extended within an eyeblink to shield both her and a cringing Daveth.
A fraction of time later, the pitch grenade hit the shield and exploded in a shower of burning mud. The force of the explosion, powerful enough to have ripped out their innards without the barrier, was still strong enough to knock both of them over. Flora fell on top of the scrawny man, swallowing in a mouthful of stale stream water as she landed face-first. The force of her landing knocked the staff from her hand; the barrier collapsed.
Daveth, who in his panic had not realised that it was Flora falling on top of him, was convinced that he had been tackled by a Darkspawn. Letting out a shriek, he flailed around with his ringed fist, making contact with something hard. Flora let out an outraged squeal and scrambled on all fours away from him, blood oozing from a cut above her right eye.
Alistair, breathless after tackling and decapitating a second Darkspawn, looked around to see Jory frozen on the far bank, and Daveth beating a cringing Flora around the head. He waved his arms at them frantically, gesturing up towards the ridge.
"Two more come!"
Alistair's cry brought a brief moment of clarity to a wild-eyed Daveth; he turned from a kneeling Flora and pulled his bow, aiming an arrow. The shot was true; a hulking Darkspawn staggered as it was blinded. It kept going, hurtling down the slope like a beast driven out of it's mind. Jory, seeing that it was incapacitated, stumbled forward and slashed his dagger clumsily across the creature's throat. Dark, coagulated blood pumped out, mingling with the stained stream water.
Meanwhile, Flora had scrambled to her feet, glanced around and spotted Alistair. He was facing down a hulking Darkspawn, more bestial than humanoid, armed with a brutal spiked club. The junior warden's shield was already dented as he held it up to defend himself from the hail of blows. The creature brought the club down on the shield once more and Alistair staggered backwards, dropping to one knee in the water. The shield had protected him from the crushing blow, but he was clearly exhausted, bleeding from several moderate wounds.
The junior warden panted, the bloody, primal smell of the Darkspawn filling his nose and dizzying his vision – or perhaps that was from the loss of his own blood. His muscles were leaden, the shield suddenly unbearably heavy. The Darkspawn snarled, dripping red-tinted froth from its jaws onto the top of his head.
Suddenly, there came a rushing of energy around him. White-gold light surged up from the earth itself, diffusing through his weary bones and muscles, blood turned to electricity in his veins. His senses felt heightened, his muscles coiled with pent-up energy like tightened springs. There was no time to question or to wonder - there was only the Darkspawn before him.
Releasing the energy in a single motion, his mouth opening in a roar of triumph, Alistair lunged forwards while bringing his sword up in a scything motion. The silver blade tore a hole in the creature's belly, gutting it from groin to throat. It collapsed to the stream, innards spilling forth in a steaming mass.
It was suddenly very quiet, save for the Darkspawn's death rattle and the ragged gasps of Jory. A bird cried to another, low and mournful, across the stagnant marshland. Panting, feeling the bone-weariness return, he glanced sideways to his initiates. Daveth, face contorted in disbelief, was standing helplessly to one side with his bow dangling from a hand. Jory was sitting on the bank, crouched over, clutching his knee. Blood surged from between his fingers. Flora was boot-deep in the stream, soaked to the skin, staff still held high above her head. The corpse of four Darkspawn lay spread around them in various states of dismemberment. Their dark, poisonous blood was already coagulating on the shores.
"Well, I feel sorry for the fish in this stream," commented Alistair after a moment, sheathing his sword. "They're definitely doomed."
He glanced sideways to where Flora was crouched in the water, her staff raised above her head, wide-eyed.
"Poisonous to us too," grumbled Daveth, washing the dark stain from his bow. "This is how Blights are spread."
"Ah, don't worry about that. We all still alive?" replied Alistair vaguely, wading upstream to join them.
Jory let out a strangled moan, teeth gritted as he rocked backwards on the bank. The wound to his knee was deep, three parallel claw marks sunk into the the flesh.
A soaking Flora clambered to her feet and went to him, reflexively responding to the cry of pain. Kneeling on the grass and resting the staff beside her, she began to untie the clasps of the shin guard. Water ran from her sodden hair, rolling over her cheeks and dripping onto the grass.
"Daveth, would you do the honours?" asked Alistair, handing over the three glass vials. Muttering under his breath, Daveth took them and knelt beside one of the leaking corpses.
As the slender man collected the blood, Alistair clambered up the slope and peered over the top of the ridge, squinting at the marshland beyond for any sign of movement.
"Nothing as far as the eye can see," he called over his shoulder, glancing back down the bank. Daveth had just finished collecting the third vial of blood, stoppering it closed with a grimace.
Flora was still kneeling over Jory, her mouth beside his mangled knee, exhaling with her eyes shut. Her fingers moved alongside her lips, coaxing the creation magic to bend to her will. After a moment, the flesh began to knit together. The man let out a grunt of pain through gritted teeth, but his groan was prematurely ended when he saw the end results. Flora sat back, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.
"That's a bloody good job you've done there, girl," Jory exclaimed in admiration, tentatively stretching the joint and feeling only a dull ache. "The best I've seen, in fact."
"That's because Flora is the most renowned healer in Thedas," replied Alistair, half-sliding back down the blood-slick slope jovially. "She once healed a wart on the Empress Celene's big toe. Just don't ask her to do anything else."
Flora mumbled a faintly derogatory response under her breath as she moved onto Daveth. Again she exhaled gently, passing her fingers over his lower arm to heal a red-raw wound caused by burning pitch. Ser Jory clambered to his feet, letting out a snort of astonishment to find himself steady.
"Amazing," he breathed, surveying the corpses of the Darkspawn strewn in the stream around them. "Gets the blood pumping, doesn't it?"
Daveth let out a non-committal grunt, inspecting the sealed burn with suspicion as Flora moved on to Alistair, splashing through the bloodied water.
The junior warden grinned at her, raising his eyebrows. He was sporting a deep cut to the chin and another just beneath his elbow, in the narrow gap where his gauntlet was fixed.
"Can I request you leave a manly-looking scar? The ladies love a masculine scar."
Flora eyed him warily, not quite sure how to react. Deciding that the best response was to give none, she began to move her fingers over the cut to his chin, bringing her lips up beside his cheek. She was guarded, half expecting him to try something audacious; but he stayed perfectly still, holding his breath and allowing her to move from one wound to the other without distraction.
"All done," she mumbled, her voice slightly hoarse from the energy passing through her throat. As she withdrew, he made a half-gesture, not quite touching her forehead.
"Don't forget about yourself," he said quietly, before reverting to his arrogant, clipped drawl to address the others.
"Right, we all done here? I think we've spent enough time in Darkspawn territory for one day."
As he spoke, Flora reached up to touch the cut above her right eye. Even as the wound began to heal, her brow furrowed in a scowl as she remembered how it had been inflicted.
"You hit me in the face!" she complained to Daveth as they made their way back towards the boundaries of the marsh. "I saved your life and you beat me around the head."
Daveth shrugged defensively, his eyes continually swivelling to scout the sickly clumps of trees and straggly bushes that flanked the winding path they were following.
"Ain't my fault. Thought you was a Darkspawn."
"I don't look anything like a Darkspawn," Flora retorted, slinging her staff over her other shoulder.
"You had just tackled me into the water. What else am I going to think?"
"I didn't tackle you, I was knocked backwards!"
As he turned to reply, Daveth almost collided with Alistair as the junior warden stopped abruptly. They were approaching the crumbling stone pillar, their horses were grazing quietly and nothing seemed abnormal until they heard it: a steady, mocking clap.
"Well, well, what have we here?" drawled a female voice that simultaneously radiated arrogance and over-familiarity. Both Jory and Flora came to a halt behind the motionless Daveth, Alistair at their head.
A moment later a woman strolled out from behind the pillar, dark hair fastened elaborately on her head with a myriad of pins, animal bones and feathers. There were scarlet runes emblazoned on her cheeks and lengthy nails were painted a matching shade. She was dressed in a robe that displayed more tanned skin than it hid, and wielded a beaded staff humming with primal energy.
Jory gaped, stepping backwards reflexively onto Flora's toe. The woman's mouth curled up into a wicked, mocking smile.
"Ouch," said Flora.
"What do we have here? Four men, wandering in the Marshes. Could they be lost, I wonder?"
She eyed them more closely, her gaze falling on the bedraggled Flora, who was peering down at her toe.
"Ah, apologies. Three men and….something else."
"Don't look directly at her," hissed Daveth in an undertone. "It's a Witch of the Wilds. She'll turn you into a frog!"
The woman laughed, mockingly, her honey-coloured eyes falling on the slender man from Denerim.
"I do lose track of the names they give us. It's apostate one minute, Witch of the Wilds the next. Have you been hunting Darkspawn again?"
"How do you know what we've been doing?" retorted Alistair rudely, his Templar training rising to the fore. The woman laughed once more, with a toss of her night-dark hair.
"I've seen you here on a few occasions, little Warden. 'Tis time I introduced myself. I am Morrigan. And yes, I am a witch who lives in the Korkari Wilds so I suppose that name may also be accurate."
"Little warden?"
"Hold, witch!" blustered Jory, thrusting a mouthing Flora forwards. "We have a powerful Mage on our side, so don't try anything!"
Morrigan looked Flora up and down and let out a scornful laugh. Flora, muddied and soaked to the skin, hair plastered to her face, glowered back.
"Surely, 'tis a jest? That creature?" Morrigan asked, her lined eyes widening in amusement. "I must see for myself."
The witch stepped forward with a tinkle of beads and Alistair's fingers tightened on his blade hilt, withdrawing it an inch. Morrigan curled her lip, waving him off.
"Hold, hold. You Templar boys always strike first, think later. I'll not lay a finger on your 'powerful Mage.'"
"How did she know I was a Templar?!" Alistair squawked in the background, but Morrigan had covered the distance to Flora surprisingly fleetly.
Flora eyed the older woman curiously, her clear grey gaze meeting Morrigan's curious stare. The two females, despite both being mages, could not have been more physically disparate. Flora was a head shorter and slightly built, with a thick braid of unruly dark-red hair falling to mid-back. Morrigan was far more buxom, her heavily-painted face deliberately seductive and her short black hair coaxed into an elaborate spray.
Flora looked up at her and thought she's not that much older than me. She tries to act beyond her years, like some of the senior initiates in the Circle do.
Morrigan peered down at the shorter girl for a long moment, and thought…Hm.
"Well, well, it seems… I was mistaken," she said abruptly, stepping back. "Appearances can be deceiving."
Alistair exhaled, quietly releasing his grip on his silverite blade as Morrigan withdrew, quickly regaining her composure.
"It's been a pleasure, but I must bid thee good night," she said lightly, her berry-stained lips curving into a cool smile as she swept her skirts in a mocking curtsey. "As you can see, the evening is fast drawing in, and it would be… foolish for you to stay come dark."
Morrigan stepped back behind the stone pillar, shortly followed by the sound of a slight rush of air. Alistair strode forward, rounded the pillar and stopped short, his brow creasing. Only their four horses stood there placidly, still secured to the rock. There was no sign of the strange woman.
"Sometimes I hate mages," the young warden drawled as he began to loosen the knotted reins.
"Thanks," mumbled Flora as she followed Daveth and Jory to join him by the horses. Alistair shook his head, handing one set of reins to the still-trembling noble.
"Not you, Flora Cove. You're one of the good ones."
Flora muttered to herself darkly as she negotiated the ascent back up to the saddle. To her surprise, it came far easier than previous attempts.
"Had you ever seen her before in the Wilds?" Jory asked Alistair after he'd mounted his own horse. As the nervous noble asked he shot a nervous glance at the sun, which was rapidly sinking into the marshes. As Morrigan had helpfully pointed out, the sky was indeed darkening around them.
"Never," replied Alistair, swinging himself up into the saddle with a grunt. "I'll be sure to take initiates to a different area in the future. Don't fancy running into her again."
"So is this Joining over now, then?" interrupted Daveth sourly, his lip curling. "Are we wardens now?"
"Ah, not quite," replied Alistair, turning his horse back towards the mountains. "Now it's time for the fun part."
